


The Bond We Share

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Other Characters Are Mentioned, idk what to rate this as, semi-crossover i guess, this prob won't make sense honestly, timelines are wacky, touching on the t'hy'la concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: The feeling never went away. Sure, sometimes it would fade in and out, and other times it became part of his regular life and he’d almost forget about it completely...In which Spock shares some kind of bond with his Kirk, and can feel when the captain's life finally comes to an end. He isn't the only one.(I suck at summaries, bleh)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Bond We Share

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, I'm back with another ST fic. A couple of disclaimers on this one:
> 
> \- I've never actually watched Star Trek: Generations. I spoiled myself and got obsessed with this personal headcanon so I decided to write a fic about it.  
> \- Because I've never watched the movie, there's probably a ton of things wrong with this. It probably screws up the timeline A LOT. I would appreciate it if you kept your comments about this to yourself. Suspend your disbelief for a moment lmao.  
> \- MAJOR. SPOILERS. Stop reading right now if you haven't seen any of the TOS movies or Generations. (Wait, would that include me?)
> 
> While the death of Kirk Prime isn't explicitly mentioned, it's hinted, so I put that archive warning there just in case.
> 
> This has been a long note. I shall take my leave now. Enjoy the fic.

**Spock Prime, Alternate Universe**

**Location: Earth Outpost**

**Time: 12:24am**

The feeling never went away. Sure, sometimes it would fade in and out, and other times it became part of his regular life and he’d almost forget about it completely.

Almost.

And when he _did_ become aware of it again, and when he had the time, he would think. He would think long and hard. He would think about it alone, isolated in his quarters as one often does when they’re a Vulcan. He never told anyone. Not even Doctor McCoy, whom Spock considered his closest friend ever since Jim…

Well…

Presumed dead was the official report, but that never quite sat right with Spock. Jim Kirk was alive. Spock, as the humans would say, could _feel_ it.

As disgustingly illogical as that was.

Nevertheless, Spock could find no other answer to this scenario. It would appear that just as he and T’Pring had been connected all those years, the same could be said for Spock and his old captain.

Spock never told anyone this. He found no reason, nor a way, to bring it up in a casual manner. The loss of Jim Kirk was a huge blow on the old crew, and even if Spock had a reputation of being cold and stone-hearted, he wasn’t about to make things harder.

And now, well, Spock couldn’t tell anyone even if he desired to. Now, he was stuck in an alternate reality, tasked with assisting his own younger self to rebuild the Vulcan community. Everything he’d ever known had changed.

Except for the feeling that Jim Kirk was alive, somewhere. Somehow.

Spock was standing at his window, having already received his two hours of sleep. Even at his age, Vulcans didn’t need nearly much rest as the humans did. _What great things humans could accomplish,_ Spock thought, _if only they didn’t need so much sleep._

He did his usual recap of the day. First, he’d aided the Vulcan elders in cataloguing what remained of the artifacts, and then after lunch he’d been put to work in one of the many computer labs. Spock expected much of tomorrow to be the same.

He would never admit it but standing there staring into space gave him an emotion he’d rarely ever felt.

Longing.

A lonely, hungry feeling that where he stood was not enough. He should be out there, among the cosmos, with Jim in the captain’s chair and McCoy standing just behind him.

 _Those days have been left behind,_ Spock told himself. He concentrated on letting the Vulcan side of his mind take over. There was no reason to let himself be consumed by foolish human emotions. _The thirty-fifth number of pi…_

And then the shockwave hit.

Not a literal one. Spock would later curse himself for the use of such metaphors. No, there was no actual shockwave, but the overwhelming flood of emotions that hit him sure felt like it.

Despair. Not entirely unfamiliar; it was the emotion he’d felt when he watched Vulcan be destroyed. It was the magnitude of despair that really caught him off guard. Spock took one shaky step backwards before his knees gave way. Thankfully, the couch was there to catch him.

Then the room got cold. _Really_ cold.

 _Has something happened with the temperature?_ Spock thought, until he realized it wasn’t the room that had gotten cold. It was him.

Spock shivered and brought his coat in tighter around himself. _Cry,_ said his human side. _Cry._

 _That is not logical,_ replied the Vulcan half. _We do not yet know what is going on._

Spock felt something tug at him. Something that was both real yet unreal. Something that was quickly fading.

Then the something finally found what it was looking for and tore it away.

And time resumed.

Spock quickly regained his composure. The shaking in his legs and arms subsided fast. He was no longer cold, and emotions of despair and sadness no longer flooded his mind. He took careful, deliberate breaths, his mind whirring like a machine.

An emotional overload of some sort, Spock surmised. But why? And what was it that…?

_Jim._

Spock’s heart, forgive the expression, sank. Irrationally, he began to search inside himself, looking for whatever it was that had bound him to Jim all these years.

There was nothing.

The feeling which had arguably been his last connection to his own world had been ripped away from him. Spock knew what it meant, and some part of him refused to believe it, just as he had when his captain had been presumed dead those seventy-eight years ago.

But that evening, it was final.

His captain, his _Thy’la,_ was gone.

Spock rushed to the computer and gave a command he’d never thought he’d have the desire to use.

**Jim Kirk, Alternate Reality**

**Location: Captain’s Quarters**

**Time: 12:33am**

He couldn’t breathe.

Dear _God,_ he couldn’t breathe.

Something was crushing him. Any attempt to inhale only accomplished in sending new waves of pain through his body. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

Oh, god. Was he going to die?

Jim practically launched himself out of bed, dripping in a cold sweat. The blankets had been tossed onto the floor; his pants rolled up to his knees. One of the buttons on his shirt had come undone.

For the first ten seconds or so, Jim concentrated solely on taking in greedy gulps of air. In, out. In, out. Fear still crawled up the back of his neck, but the nightmare was over. That’s all it had been, after all.

Jim had to admit, however, it was a strange one. More real than any of his past nightmares. It hadn’t been about Tarsus IV, nor about Nero. Not even his father, which was a recurring theme in his dreams.

His hand went to press the comm button, but he stopped himself. Who would he call? Bones? That man would be on his case within seconds, either calling him an infant and stabbing him with a hypospray or organizing a dozen counselling sessions. Neither option was particularly desirable.

Spock? Jim almost laughed at himself. He barely knew the half-Vulcan. Most of their exchanges were somewhat hostile or ones of strained tolerance at best. Old Spock had mentioned a friendship, but in Jim’s opinion, they still had a long way to go.

Uhura? Now that was just asking for trouble. _Hey, Uhura, wanna come into my room at half past midnight?_ There was no way he could phrase that without sounding like a complete creep.

The chirping of his PADD made Kirk almost jump out of his skin. _Incoming transmission,_ the words on the screen blinked. _Ambassador Spock requesting visual._

Jim cocked an eyebrow. Ambassador Spock calling him at this hour? Some voice in the back of his mind told him that it was related to his out-of-character nightmare, but he ignored it.

“Accept,” he commanded, and the image of Old Spock appeared almost immediately.

Kirk had to do a double take to make sure it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him. The Ambassador was always just as annoyingly put-together as his younger counterpart was. Neither ever had a hair out of place for as long as Jim had known each of them.

Now, Spock had _many_ hairs out of place. The usual Vulcan bowl cut was hardly recognizable. His eyes had dark circles under them, his expression forlorn and almost anxious.

Kirk realized he’d been staring without saying a word and cleared his throat. “Good evening ambassador. Or, uh, good morning, I suppose.” He glanced at the clock. 12:35am.

“Yes, forgive me for contacting you at this hour,” Ambassador Spock replied. Was that a hint of relief Kirk detected in his voice? Never had a Spock been so glad to see _him._

“I just felt the need to… check up on you, I suppose. And the Enterprise.”

“Well, uh, we’re both doing fine.” Kirk yawned. “Scotty’s been taking good care of her. I tell ya, he’s probably the most valuable addition to the team since I crawled my way aboard. How on earth did you know he’d be at that outpost?”

“Admittedly, I was not aware Engineer Scott was stationed there.” Spock’s voice was getting back to normal, which is to say, it was becoming more monotone and irritable by the minute. “Perhaps just a coincidence, or perhaps fate.”

“I thought Vulcans didn’t believe in such things.”

“Oh, you forget I’m only half Vulcan.”

Jim snorted. “Now that’s where you and your younger self differ. He’s disappointed as hell to be half human. You seem much more cheerful about it.”

“No one knows more about myself than me,” Spock replied. Was that the ghost of a smile on his face? “You can trust me; your Spock is just as proud to be half human as I am.”

“We’ll see about that.” Jim grinned. “So, what purpose did you wake me up for anyway? Some kind of emergency down there?” He didn’t know exactly why he’d lied about being awoken by the ambassador’s call. Jim could’ve just as easily have said he was drinking the night away. Who _wouldn’t_ believe him?

“I assure you, no emergency.” There was a pause. “At least, not of the nature you may be thinking.”

Jim wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear that or not.

“As I mentioned before, just a check-in,” the Vulcan continued. “I probably shouldn’t keep you up. Knowing Captain Kirk of the Enterprise, I think it’s safe to say you have some important duties to attend to in the morning.”

Jim tried to ignore the strain in Spock’s voice. “If piloting her to the nearest starbase for routine inspection counts as important.”

“Being a Captain is not all adventures and exploration, I’m afraid.”

“Unfortunately. Sometimes it means sitting on my ass waiting for repairs. Goodnight, Ambassador.”

Spock held up his fingers in the Vulcan salute. “Live long,” he said, “and prosper. My old friend.”

The communication terminated and the glowing light from his PADD faded. Jim slowly put it back on the table.

 _Live long and prosper._ Jim had heard those words thousand times, spoken by his first officer or other members of the Vulcan community. Yet when the Ambassador stated them, it was almost as if a new meaning had been given to them. But what? And why?

Exhaustion hit Jim like a tidal wave. He collapsed back on his bed, dragging the covers back up from where they’d fallen onto the floor.

_My old friend._

Jim had known him for, what, maybe a year? No, even less than that. So why had the ambassador referred to him as an “old” friend?

 _Maybe he was thinking of_ his _Kirk,_ Jim thought with a yawn. _Would he make that mistake? Probably not. Then again, he looked absolutely disheveled and downright human. Maybe…_

Jim found he couldn’t think anymore. Exhaustion had taken hold of his mind, sleep drawing him in like a siren.

Right before his consciousness disappeared from the world, Jim could’ve sworn he’d heard the voice of someone both familiar yet unfamiliar, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

The words finally came to him in the morning.

“ _It was… fun.”_


End file.
